The Lighthouse
by Foolish Mortal
Summary: An alternate version of the episode with Yuri, the woman who is plagued by the mysterious photograph of the blonde woman. Spoilers: Episode 20 "Atonement." Pairings: minor character femslash.


Written in one sitting in about 30 minutes after watching the episode, because I had predictions about where the story was going to go, what with it being Valentine's Day and everything. I was wrong, but this story just spilled out.

**Disclaimer: I do not own xxxHolic or any of its characters.**

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**Hanako had been nagging her to get away from work and go to the beach. It was all very well for her- she was a teacher and had the summer free when school ended for the semester. Yuri had told her working for a company was different, and she couldn't just skip out for a week because she wanted to. But Hanako had eventually worn her down like always. It was at once singularly annoying and heart stoppingly endearing, two things that almost never went together but showed up again and again with Hanako. Like pork dumplings and ice cream.

So Yuri had logged in a request for a week off, and Hanako had immediately printed off a dozen locations for them to look over at the kitchen table after dinner.

Hanako's cheeks were flushed with excitement, and she was beaming like a small child. Yuri couldn't resist. "Maybe I should have asked for two weeks off," she teased.

Hanako gave her a small happily embarrassed smile and covered Yuri's hand with her own.

****

Yuri was trying to set the camera for automatic while Hanako was waiting in front of the scenic cliffs with her long loose golden hair pinned down ineffectually with the floppy straw hat she had bought at one of the local stores. Yuri had initially complained that it was too expensive, but had given in when she saw Hanako wearing it. Hanako always looked too cute for her own good.

"Is it ready yet?" Hanako shouted over impatiently and waved. "Come on, Yuri. I'm afraid of these cliffs."

"Calm down, Hanako." Yuri finished setting it up and walked into the camera's line of sight. She tucked Hanako's hair behind her ear and pushed against her, keeping one arm around Hanako's waist. "What's the matter? Think you're going to fall?"

Hanako squeaked as she was tipped back onto her heels. "Yuri, stop that!" But she was laughing. "Stop it! You're going to be the death of me!"

"Mm," Yuri said, and they bumped noses. "Don't say such things."

They kissed there by the cliffs out in open daylight, not caring who was watching. Hanako felt light and warm and vibrant against her lips. Hanako tasted like life. Yuri smelled sea salt and felt the thundering rush of the surf beating against the cliffs, the slightly chilly breeze coming off the ocean. As Hanako's warm arms folded around her neck, she heard the faint tinny flash of the camera going off.

And it was perfect.

****

There had been only one girl in the photo, smiling and waving while keeping her straw hat clamped to her head with one hand. But then Watanuki saw Yuri enter the frame from the side and reach out towards the mysterious woman. He exclaimed and the photograph slipped through his fingers to the floor.

Yuri was diving for it in an instant. She grabbed the photo and clutched it tightly in her arms, covering it protectively. She couldn't destroy it. It sat in a frame on her dresser next to the bed; she had opened her eyes to that picture of the two of them every day for five years. Sometimes it felt like that picture was the only thing that got her out of bed each day. She still slept on her side of the bed. The other side was vacant, sacred. The pillow still bore marks from Hanako's head. There were a few dull golden strands of hair caught up in the extra hairbrush Yuri never used.

No, she couldn't destroy it. She couldn't keep it locked up somewhere no one would find it. She needed to see it. She always came home from work and sat it in front of her while she had her tea and biscuits. Sometimes she forgot and got out an extra teacup or bought the tea cakes in even numbers at the bakery. It had always been tea time after Yuri got home from the office and Hanako's class let out. They sat there chattering over cups of dark coffee about nothing at all, just silly things like the weather and their day. Yuri still talked half-heartedly, but the picture couldn't talk back. Their..._her_ flat was still too dark and quiet despite all the lamps and the classical music Yuri always had playing in the living room. Hanako had been the talkative one, the one that brightened any room she entered. No, Yuri had to keep the picture on the table.

But she could be ruined. She was up for a promotion in the company. What would her boss and his family say if she invited them over for dinner and they saw that? What would he say if he saw that on her office desk beside the small pot of dried up flowers she had long since neglected?

Her friends always understood that Hanako was a fixture whenever all of them went out. They had just taken it for granted that the two of them were close and damn near inseparable; they had just never understood how close. Her friends never openly condemned people like them, but once in a while a barbed comment would come out of someone's mouth, and Hanako would squeeze her hand discreetly under the table. Yuri squeezed back, white-knuckled and silent.

She wished her parents could see how happy she had been. They were overjoyed that Yuri's career was becoming more successful of course, but to them that was the one inevitable last step towards a marriage and grandchildren. They wouldn't have understood what she and Hanako had. Yuri had imagined her parents would have liked sweet polite Hanako and dotted on her like a daughter. But a daughter-in-law? No, that was out of the question.

Yuri could feel Yuko and Watanuki's eyes at her back. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt them burn. "No! Don't look at it!" She didn't want to be ashamed of Hanako. Hanako had been the best thing that ever happened to her. She had loved this woman like she had never loved anything else in her cold corporate world. Those few years had been the best of her life.

But her job, her parents, her friends. The plastic corners of the photograph were pricking into her fingers like teeth, but she didn't let go. She bowed her head and remained crouched on the floor. And eternal penance for what she was about to do.

"Don't look at it…"

Watanuki's bag had fallen over and its contents had spilled everywhere. There was a small pink slightly crushed chocolate box in the shape of a heart lying on the floor.

Oh.

It was Valentine's Day.

-END-

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Written against Prop 8 and other legislation that gives LGBT people any anything less than full rights as citizens. Because you make us feel ashamed of ourselves, and no one has that right.


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